They Are Chanting Your Name
by Korpikaazi
Summary: Thranduil's thoughts as he watches Legolas graduate to the rank of Captain in Greenwood. One-shot internal monologue.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nada. I'm only playing in my favourite sandbox.

 **Author's Note:** So this is the first story I've been bold enough to submit. The style is a little different to how I usually write but I wanted to experiment with an internal monologue so the repetitions etc are intentional. I hope it isn't too distracting! Reviews and constructive criticism actively encouraged :)

 **Additional Note:** I know nothing about military rankings. I went with Cadet for the sort of standard soldier and Captain for someone who can take command of others. Apologies if this sits wrong with anyone. Suggestions for improvements on this welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

They are chanting your name, my son.

The relief in your face is obvious to all to see, although perhaps not everyone would understand its full cause. To the crowds watching you, it must seem to be relief at finishing the trials with flying colours; relief that you struck every target with time to spare. But to those of us who have seen your heart, Legolas, your thankful smile reveals a deeper root.

Your Grandfather would be horrified if he had known your insecurities, my son. He held the Greenwood in his palm and never would have doubted his people's fealty to him. Perhaps it is misguided, but I share in his assurance. I know that our people will respect me, obey me, follow me wherever necessary. But you, my Green leaf, you have never had that confidence. You strive to please our people, to assure them of your dedication. Can you not see how you have had their respect from the moment you were old enough to walk? How often do they come to you to mediate their arguments, to give advice or support, or simply to talk about the changes in the trees? To you, this is not just a victory that will allow you to take a commanding role for our troops. This is a victory that will add to your never ending need to prove your worthiness to our people.

Your closest friends have piled onto the courts to smother you in praise and embraces. Thalion would ordinarily have forbidden such a breach of protocol, but he is too busy cheering for you to notice or care.

Through the excited tangle of friends around you I watch as you seek me out in the crowd. As your blue eyes meet mine, I see behind them that fear that you never seem to be able to shake – that you have somehow failed, that I will disapprove. Surely, surely my son, you realise that you have out-performed all other trials witnessed on this court? Surely, the ecstatic whooping of your friends, the grin on your weapons master's face, the crowds calling your name – surely that is enough to assure you of your success? But no, there it is, that apprehension that I wish I could remove for eternity. I hold your gaze and hope that you can understand that I am filled with such a pride I feel as though my heart could burst. You have done well, my son.

The noise around me fades away as I keep my eyes on you. After what seems like an eternity, but must surely be only seconds, I see the doubt in your eyes fade, replaced by the joy you should feel at such a victory. I cannot help the tears of pride that burn my eyes as I watch you allow yourself to be pulled into an enormous group embrace by your friends. I have to blink to clear my vision – Eru knows you will never let me forget it if I am seen _crying_ in public!

Thalion is approaching the podium in front of me. The crowd settles slightly and your friends release you as he raises his arms, but the excitement is still palpable in the air.

"Friends of Greenwood," he begins, his voice carrying easily across the long distances of the field. "Today we have witnessed the third and final trial of Cadet Legolas Thranduilion in the leadership assessment." Thalion waits for the cheers to die down before continuing. Never before have the trials raised such a crowd, but Thalion is taking the excitement in his stride.

"Thranduilion, step forward please."

You extract yourself from the group surrounding you and approach the podium, looking every bit the Prince you are. The sunlight on your golden hair makes it seem as though you are made of light yourself. Few would be able to tell, but I know you well enough, my son: the tips of your ears have reddened, giving away how much the decorum and formality of the situation makes you uncomfortable. You will never be as confident in ceremonies as you are on the training field.

You kneel before the podium, and I have to keep myself in check to not break protocol by rushing out to stand beside you. I see the way that you clench your hands together as you kneel; somehow, somehow you are still unsure of yourself. Where does it come from, this fear that you have failed? Can you not see that you excel in everything you do?

Thalion waits for silence to descend before addressing you. "Legolas Thranduilion, it is my pleasure to inform you of the outcomes of the three trials this day. In navigation, strategy and logic, you have passed."

I see you clench your hands tighter. One down, two to go.

"In field and improvised healing, you have passed."

It is so silent that it feels like the whole forest is holding its breath.

"In combat, including swordsmanship and archery… you have passed. I hereby promote you to the rank of captain, in a position to command those who wish to follow you."

The roar that drowns out Thalion's statement causes the whole field to shake. You rise to greet Thalion, who claps you on the shoulder and says something I cannot hear over the deafening cheers. You laugh at his response, your eyes sparkling in a way that is so reminiscent of your mother that I feel goosebumps. I can feel her presence around us, hear her voice in the wind. She would have been so proud of you.

Almost as though you can hear my thoughts, your eyes catch mine. In your face, I see the delight you feel at having shown the people what you can do. I smile at you and hope that you know how much I love you, my son. I am so proud of you.

As the weapons masters arrive to congratulate you, I cannot help the dark thoughts that I have been trying to avoid. You have excelled in your training, progressed faster than any elf before you; so all the sooner you will throw yourself into the darkening world. It seems to me that you have barely begun to live, and now you will be expected to lead our troops. You will be on patrols, in battles, accountable for the lives in your hands. I know that it will be your honour to protect our realm, but my heart fears for you, my little leaf. I beg the Valar not to let you lose the spark of life that brings such joys to those around you: do not let the devastation of battle taint your soul.

The joy of the crowd around me is infectious however: it prevents me from wallowing in doubt for the future. For now, all I see is you, my beautiful golden Elfling. The crowds are chanting your name again. You work so hard to ensure their respect for you, Legolas, but what you do not realise is that you have something much more precious than that – something your Grandfather and I did not gain so easily. Not only do our people respect you; they love you, as you love them. I can feel it in the air around me, in the joyful looks you are being given, in the cheers and shouts.

They are chanting your name, my son. And I cannot help but join in.


End file.
